How To Catch A Falling Star
by Ashelyn
Summary: The Thunderbirds are up to their usual escapades, saving lives and getting into – and out of - fixes around the world. But when an unforseen danger threatens, will they come through?
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's Notes:_**

_Hello and thank you for checking in!_

_This story is based upon the 1960's TV show. _

_While I've learned a lot about Thunderbirds there are many things I don't know, so please forgive any major blunders...also, I am not an expert on science, maths or astronomy so apologies if I've made any mistakes!_

_I've basically invented the ages of the Tracy brothers to suit myself so I'm sorry if they don't match up with whatever is accepted as canon so here they are...Scott 27, John 25, Virgil 24, Gordon 20 and Alan 18._

_Reviewers are greatly appreciated! Please leave me a comment on what you think and if you like it or not, and any tips or suggestions! I'll be uploading a new chapter every couple of days – and I promise to complete it J_

_I think that's all for now...thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the ride!_

_-Ashelyn-_

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**CHAPTER ONE**

The surf was epic. A howling gale had ripped across the South Pacific over the last few days, 180 mile-per-hour winds goading the ocean into producing some serious waves, much to the delight of two young men who now raced over ten-foot swells on a powerful jetski.

Alan couldn't resist throwing in a few hard turns, the blades of the ski cutting the sparkling aqua-marine water and throwing up huge sprays.

"Whoaaaaaa!" His brother yelled, almost thrown off the back by the speed of the machine. "Watch it, Alan! I want my board to stay in one piece!" A gleaming, sharp-nosed surfboard, the prize of Gordon's fairly sizeable collection, was strapped to the side of the ski.

"Relax!" His younger brother laughed back, words almost lost in the combined roar of the motor and the offshore reef break they were headed towards. "Have I ever dumped you yet?"

"More times than I can count!" Gordon retorted as they reached the reef that rose sharply from unfathomable depths to lie deviously hidden mere metres below the surface of the water. This sudden change in the topography of the seabed caused the far-travelling ocean swells to rear up suddenly into huge, perfectly formed surf. Alan throttled back and the brothers silently watched the waves for a few minutes. Even by Tracy Island's standards, it was a fantastic break, the huge storm swells rearing up and forming a smooth, glassy barrel as they rolled over the shallow reef and broke with a deafening thunder.

"It's pretty big, man," Alan remarked, glancing across at his brother. "Check out that one! Gotta be forty feet if it's an inch!"

"Lucky I've got you to tow me in then!" Gordon laughed, his eyes alight with the joy of being on the ocean. No matter how much he surfed, he never got tired of it. In most situations Alan was the reckless one, a seemingly inborn need for speed pushing him into all the most extreme sports. When it came to surfing, however, Gordon was fearless and would surf without batting an eyelid waves none of his brothers would even dare to contemplate. The reef they now watched was not just the best spot near Tracy Island to surf – it was also the most dangerous.

"Okay, I've got it," Gordon had observed the break and knew exactly where he wanted to be. Alan followed his directions and raced the jetski out behind the break. There, they quickly set up the tow rope that attached to the back of the ski and Gordon hopped onto the board, slotting his feet into the sturdy straps that kept him on the board while it was being towed and taking a firm hold of the grab handle. A tow-in was necessary for catching this kind of wave – the water moved so fast that the surfer couldn't paddle fast enough to get into the wave without something, be it a jetski, speedboat or helicopter, towing him in. Luckily for Gordon, Alan loved playing with the jetski almost as much as Gordon loved surfing.

"Let's do this!" Gordon whooped, and Alan ripped out in front of a monster swell that reared up behind them, dwarfing the ski and surfer as it towered above them. At the perfect moment, Gordon let go of the tow rope and shot across the wide rolling top of the swell as it began to rear up and form a vertical, forty-foot watery cliff. Turning to look behind, Alan checked his brother had gotten into the wave okay before gunning the motor and getting the hell out of the path of those hundreds of tons of water, spinning his craft around when he reached safety to watch Gordon's ride.

Gordon was an expert surfer, but Alan knew he had to keep his attention firmly fixed on his brother. When you were playing with nature, you could do everything right and still get into trouble. Unlike surfing the sandy beach break nearer the shore, if Gordon wiped out or couldn't pull out of the wave in time, there was practically no water to dive into. The shallow reef was deadly, for the pounding wave could break a surfer on the jagged coral-covered rocks, or drown him under churning masses of water. Alan had to be prepared to race into the danger zone if anything went wrong.

It didn't pay to dwell on these thoughts though, and Alan was never one to worry about what _might_ happen. Instead he whooped as Gordon expertly took on this force of nature. The surfboard skimmed across the top of the wave as it reared up and up, moving from a thick roll of water into a towering peak over forty feet high. Gordon pulled into a 180 degree curve, plummeting down several stories of water and back towards Alan as the wave rolled over his head, forming a huge tube. The blast of pressurized water that shot through the barrel as it collapsed propelled him through a blinding mass of white spray as he pulled back over the shoulder.

The two boys surfed all morning, Alan taking a turn on the board when the tide turned and the swell dropped to a more manageable size. The sun beat down, bleaching Gordon's ginger hair to a light reddish gold and Alan's to almost pure white. Both had spent so much time on the water this summer that their skins were already burnt a deep brown. They stopped only when the sun was at its zenith and hunger became too strong to ignore.

"I could eat a pterodactyl!" Alan remarked feelingly as he pulled up to the jetty. There was a boathouse built into the side of the rocky cliff, and the boys left the ski inside and clambered over the rocky sea-wall that sheltered a golden beach from the worst of the swells. In the calm of the early afternoon the sea was flattening out, and Gordon could tell the best of the surf was over for the day.

"I think I'll take old Fishbait for a whirl later on," he mused as they headed up to the main house in search of lunch. "She needs a good blow-out, hasn't seen much action lately...want to come?" He grinned as Alan shook his head vehemently, salt-stiffened curls sticking up at all angles.

"No thank you! Give me a rocket any day! You know there is more than one reason why we call it "Fishbait"!" He teased.

"Aw, c'mon! Nobody appreciates poor Fishbait!" Gordon complained, punching his brother good-naturedly on the shoulder. "Just because all your rockets and ultrasonic jets are flashy, doesn't mean Fishbait's no use!"

"Brother, even you can't deny that thing has...well, shall we say a _permeating _odour?" Alan dodged away from the swing Gordon took at him for that one.

"You try keeping a submarine clean when people are constantly dripping salt water in the airlock! And might I remind you who it was that knocked those fish all over the co-pilot's seat?" Alan's blue eyes widened.

"Who told you about that? Did Virgil tell you? He swore he wouldn't, the rat!"

"Nobody told me anything, but I can spot your handiwork from a mile off! So Virgil was in on it too? You guys are just lucky I didn't tell Dad you took a Thunderbird out on a fishing trip! You would really have been in for it!" Alan groaned.

"It was only because the speedboat needed a filter change and you and Scott had taken the yacht out."

"Yeah, you would never have gotten away with it if I had been there! Fishbait may not be much called for on rescues, but that doesn't mean it's available as a fishing boat." Alan sobered at this, detecting some seriousness behind Gordon's light-hearted tone.

"I know mate, sorry," he said, slightly awkward. Gordon just grinned at him. It was not in his nature to dwell on unpleasant thoughts and the day was too perfect for anything less than cheerfulness.

"Well at least I have some good blackmail material on you now," he laughed as they walked through the open French doors into the lounge.

"Boys! Again, sand on the carpet!" an accented voice protested as they made a beeline for the kitchen. "How many times must I tell you: wash the sand from your feet _before_ you enter..." he trailed off with a sigh as the two boys froze with their hands already on the refrigerator door, turning guilty eyes to the elderly Malaysian.

"Sorry, Kyrano," Gordon said, Alan nodding vigorously in agreement. "We forgot..."

"You are no longer children, please try to remember next time," Kyrano scolded gently, following them into the open-plan kitchen area. "You are hungry, yes? I saved you something from lunch, let me heat it for you," he chivvied them back into the lounge.

"Thanks!" they chorused with feeling, Alan flopping down onto a couch while Gordon cast about for a t-shirt, the air-conditioning made the room too cold for just board shorts.

"You're a gem, Kyrano," the red-head beamed winningly at the chef, causing the elderly man to break into a responding smile despite himself. "See, you're not really cross!" Satisfied he had broken the Asian's stern mood, he located a Hawaiian shirt he had discarded yesterday behind the couch and pulled it on before collapsing next to his brother on the couch. "So, you're not a child any more?" He teased his younger brother. "I think eighteen still counts as a child, why you are still just a teenager!" Alan growled.

"And you're so much older! How long have you been twenty, about ten days?" He retorted, very much put out by being the only teenager left on the island. Even Tin-Tin, Kyrano's daughter, was older than him, though she was still away at an engineering course on the mainland.

"No matter, I am still twenty _baby_ brother!" He grinned as Alan shoved him hard enough to nearly push him off the couch. "Hey watch it!" he grabbed a cushion and pushed it into his brother's surprised face, knocking him into a lamp that wobbled dangerously.

"Both of you watch it," Kyrano said sternly as he brought out two plates piled high with a delicious Asiatic concoction. Effectively distracted from teasing each other, the brothers were loud in their praise and sat cross-legged at the low table, barely glancing from their plates up when an inside door opened and a dreamy-eyed young man wandered in.

"Oh, hi guys," Virgil greeted his brothers vaguely, his eyes drifting over to the shaded spot where his beautiful grand piano awaited. "Surf good?"

"Epic!" Gordon mumbled, his mouth full. Alan swallowed.

"It was fantastic out there Virg, Gordon caught a couple that had to be near fifty feet, you should've seen it!"Virgil sat at the piano and spread his fingers lovingly over the antique ivory keys.

"Uh-huh..." he replied vaguely, his mind clearly miles away. Alan looked at Gordon and rolled his eyes.

"Then Gordon blew up the entire reef because he found a giant shark there with its head stuck down a hole." He continued in the same tone. Virgil nodded.

"That's good..." There was a few second's pause before their brother looked up in confusion, having obviously responded to Alan's cheerful tone rather than his actual words.

"...What?" Alan and Gordon started laughing. Virgil looked so bewildered.

"What's up Virgil, not another symphony coming on I hope?" Gordon grinned.

"Four movements and variations on a theme, in B minor..." Virgil wasn't even really speaking to him, music was flooding his thoughts and he took a sheaf of music paper from the top of the piano and began scribbling musical notes at top speed, stopping every now and then to sound out a few chords and bars of delicate melody.

"We won't be getting any sense out of him till this one's over," Alan sighed resignedly. Classical music was wasted on him; give him a rock band any day.

"Let's just hope there isn't a call this time. Remember what happened when we were doing that rescue in the Grand Canyon and he was writing that thing the Vienna Symphony Orchestra ended up touring Europe with?"

"How could I forget? It was alright for him, he was in Thunderbird Two the whole time, I was the one who had to fend off the local police and all the tourists, _and_ explain to father why we had rescued those hikers from a rockslide only to cause another one ten times worse!" Alan exclaimed. He still couldn't believe his father had blamed _him _for that one. Gordon laughed.

"You should have seen dad's face when he saw that cliff come down on the satellite feed, I thought he was going to explode!"

"Well he did explode, all over me." Alan grumbled. "I tell you, that is the _only_ time I have ever been glad to go on duty on Thunderbird 5."

The conversation was interrupted by the sudden commencement of a measured electronic beeping noise that was relayed through the room through hidden speakers. Blond, red and brown heads jerked up at the alarm, even Virgil pausing in his rapid scribbling.

"Speak of the devil," Gordon quipped as he sprang to his feet and dashed across the lounge. Alan was hot on his heels and Virgil reluctantly dragged himself away from the piano to follow his brothers into the next room, where the eyes of a large photograph on the wall were lighting up in time with the warning signal. Their father was not in the room, so Gordon opened the channel.

"Hey John, what's up?" he asked as the image on the wall was replaced by a high-definition video screen showing their brother in the space station. "Apart from you, that is!"

John rolled his eyes. It was only about the thousandth time Gordon had made that particular wisecrack.

"I've just picked up a distress call from outback Australia. Sudden bush fire, group of hikers cut off and trapped against a cliff wall. Emergency services inadequately equipped to perform any kind of rescue in the area." John's fingers flew over unseen controls and a set of coordinates flashed onto a set of monitors mounted on the walls, followed by satellite images of the blaze. The three boys glanced at each other as an older man strode into the room. Jeff Tracy's commanding presence was palpable and immediately drew their attention. His eldest son, Scott, was not far behind and in moments Jeff had sized up the situation and was giving his orders.

"Virgil, take Scott, Alan and the Komodo and get there at full speed, forest fires spread quickly and they don't have much time."

"Yes sir," All three boys immediately obeyed their father's command and within seconds had vanished from the room, using various hidden passages to access the huge aircraft. Jeff seated himself behind the desk and busied himself pulling up screens of relevant data and geographical information. He would brief his sons as they made the journey across the ocean. Thunderbird One had the greater speed, but they would probably need to airlift the trapped hikers out of there and Thunderbird Two was the obvious choice – and at its top speed of Mach 7 the flight time to Australia could be measured in minutes.

Gordon knew that as an underwater specialist he was the last choice to go on an air rescue, but it still irked him that he hardly ever got a chance to be out there in the action. He glanced up at the video screen showing John, wondering if he ever felt this way.

John caught sight of his younger brother watching him through the monitor, dressed in a bright Hawaiian shirt that clashed violently with his ginger hair, and gave him a brief, distracted smile as he collected data and fed it through to his father. Gordon opened his mouth but his words were drowned out by the rumbling noise of the cliff-disguised hangar door opening beneath the building.

"Thunderbird Two, permission for take-off," Virgil's voice came through the speakers. Jeff had already done the routine sweep of the local skies and granted permission instantly. Gordon was drawn to the windows as he watched the familiar sight of the huge, unwieldy-looking aircraft roar ponderously down the runway, the bizarre sight of palm trees falling back to allow its stubby forward-pointing wings to pass by. Not for the first time, he marvelled at the genius of their engineer, the man they fondly called "Brains". Gordon could hardly believe the hefty cargo carrier could even get airborne, let alone reach the incredible speed of over 5,000 miles per hour and even have the ability to leave the earth's atmosphere.

"There she goes again," he muttered under his breath, watching Thunderbird Two blast off the ramped runway and disappear into the blue skies.

The whole operation, from receiving the distress call to take-off, had taken less than five minutes, so Gordon had to admit that the military precision and strictness their father insisted on paid off. He approached the control desk.

"Anything I can do, Father?" He asked. Jeff didn't look up.

"Watch that monitor will you Gordon, it shows the heat image of the fire. Let me know if it changes direction at all," he instructed. Gordon complied with an inward sigh. Yet again, here he was, stuck watching a stupid monitor while his brothers got to go out and have all the fun.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Heat poured into the atmosphere from the flaming forest, causing a bumpy ride for Scott and Alan as Virgil gently guided Thunderbird Two towards the site where a group of six hikers sheltered under a slightly overhanging rock face. The plan was to land on the top of the cliff, some 200 feet above the trapped people. They could not land beside the hikers, the flames were already too close to their position and the great aircraft could not withstand being surrounded by fire.

Alan made ready to pilot the Komodo, one of the larger POD vehicles. The plane was specifically designed to be able to fly in extreme heat. It mainly consisted of a large tank holding over 8,000 gallons of water with which Alan would hopefully control the fringes of the fire. They could not use a flame retardant, the chemicals were dangerous to inhale and they would have to spray them far too close to the hikers, so the less effective measure of water was the best option. The full blaze of the bushfire was far too big for the little aircraft to cope with alone, but it would buy them valuable time.

Virgil landed Thunderbird Two with a larger bump than usual, only to be expected given the conditions – or maybe he was still thinking of his symphony. Immediately the aircraft began to rise up on its metal legs, exposing the POD. Alan's plane rolled out and the young pilot just managed to take off on the small amount of bumpy exposed rock available, circling round through the turbulent air and swooping away to tackle the blaze that threatened the hikers. Scott and Virgil moved quickly out and towards the cliff edge, carrying between them a variety of equipment.

"Alright, you know the drill. I'll buzz you as soon as I've got someone into the harness and you pull them up. There may be burns so be prepared to do some first aid." Scott quickly checked his own harness as Virgil nodded, expertly knotting Scott's climbing rope to several self-expanding pitons he had quickly fastened into a natural crack in the rock.

"F.A.B, you're good to go," Virgil confirmed, watching his oldest brother disappear quickly over the cliff edge. He readied the winch, making sure it was secure. The machine would help the hikers to scale the 200-foot cliff as quickly as possible. Speed was of the essence. Virgil watched the Komodo soar around the perimeter, releasing huge sprays of water in attempting to douse the flames, but the whole area was blazing with heat and sparks flew everywhere, setting light to all they touched.

Scott dashed away sweat that dripped into his eyes as he rapidly abseiled down the cliff face, the second harness and wire over his shoulder. In minutes he was above the group.

"Ware heads," he called and was rewarded by soot-blackened faces looking up at him with incredible mixtures of fear and relief. They quickly scuffled aside and he landed among them, unclipping himself from his rope as he untangled the winch harness. The roar of the fire was deafening and he had to shout to be heard at all, even at close quarters.

"You need to get into the harness one by one. My colleague is at the top of the cliff with an aircraft waiting for you. You're all going to be fine," he promised. Quickly he helped the closest girl into the harness, explaining to her how to push away from the rock as she ascended. Once she was ready he pressed the buzzer on his watch. Virgil's watch would vibrate in response, and sure enough the winch began to move, slowly at first, then faster. The girl quickly got the idea and pushed herself away from the rock to prevent being scraped along the rough red stone.

The heat was intense down there and Scott was gasping for breath by the time the fifth person was being hauled up. His clothing was fire-resistant, but his face and hands were already speckled with little burns where ashes had fallen and the thick dark smoke of the burning forest was beginning to surround him. They were working quickly and efficiently as possible, but it felt like hours had gone by and the air was being consumed by the raging flames. Belatedly he realized he should have brought an oxygen tank down. Alan in the Komodo had done his best to keep the flames away from the group, but his tank was now used up and he had been forced to land back on the cliff top, helping Virgil with the shaken group and treating minor burns.

Finally the harness was lowered back down and Scott strapped the last man in, relieved that all his charges were now on the way to safety. He was supposed to wait for the winch himself, but the flames were so close now, voraciously devouring the bone-dry Australian eucalyptus and gum trees, and without a proper fire fighter's outfit he couldn't bear the heat and smoke much longer. The metal buckles on his harness were heating up and beginning to burn him through his clothing and he could barely stand to touch the aluminium karabiner long enough to secure himself back onto the rope. Once clipped in, Scott began to scale the cliff, the automatic belay system at the top keeping the rope taut though not providing the climbing aid the winch had done for the hikers. His fingers were slippery with sweat and he wished he had some of the climber's chalk that would aid his grip, but the rock was rough and pitted and there were plenty of handholds.

Scott was about 120 feet up the cliff when his rope suddenly slackened. Glancing up, he flinched as part of the rope fell down towards him. To his horror he saw that the tough climbing rope had actually been singed through. A stray spark must have blown onto the cliff and damaged the rope. Too late, he realized he hadn't taken out the special flame-resistant rope, but had used a regular one instead. Looking down, the flames were consuming the area where he had stood minutes beforehand and the smoke was beginning to cause problems. Precariously balanced on his meagre footholds, he pressed his body close to the cliff face as he activated his watch.

"Virgil, come in!"

"Scott, what's happening down there?" Virgil's anxious voice answered him immediately through the device, but Scott was forced to press his lips together and try not to cough. He wobbled dangerously. A coughing fit here, forty metres up a cliff above a raging bush fire with no rope, was likely to be fatal. Eventually he controlled his body's natural instinct to expel the smoke from his lungs.

"I'm 80 feet from you, rope's burned through," he croaked. "Can't get into the harness from here so I'm going to free climb it. Can't wait for another rope smoke's choking me already," he broke off as his lungs spasmed again. Both Virgil and Alan's urgent voices were issuing from his wrist now as he began to climb again but he didn't hear their words, focussing intently on what he was doing and trying to ignore the fiery drop that would follow one false move.

At the top of the cliff Virgil had sent Alan sprinting back to the Pod for another climbing rope while he anxiously peered over the edge. The flames were right up to the bottom of the cliff now and, some distance above them but still much too far from the top, he could see the silhouetted figure of his brother. Scott was fighting the slightly overhanging cliff and Virgil's heart quailed to think that Scott was climbing this dangerous wall without a rope.

"Come on Scott, you can do it," he muttered, reaching down for his brother's hand though Scott was still a long distance away from him.

Scott was tiring and his fingers were slipping, betraying him. Smoke inhalation was wreaking havoc with his breathing and his muscles began to tremble. The handholds he found were getting smaller and harder to grip and he knew he could not hang on for much longer. Suddenly through the roaring in his ears he heard a voice calling.

"Scott! Come on you're nearly there!" Virgil shouted. "Grab my hand!" Scott looked wearily up to see his brother's strong arm reaching down to him. With a supreme last effort he lunged up and grasped Virgil's wrist with soot-blackened fingers. Virgil hauled Scott over the edge of the cliff with a wordless grunt of effort, dragging him away from the drop as his brother stumbled forward and collapsed onto hands and knees, finally giving way to the choking fit that racked his whole body. Suddenly Alan appeared with a climbing rope over one shoulder and the forgotten oxygen mask and tank in his arms.

"Alan, you're amazing," Virgil grabbed the oxygen mask and quickly placed it over his brother's face. With clean air making it into his lungs Scott was finally able to control the coughing and begin to breathe normally. Tears born of smoke irritation made tracks through the soot on his face. Alan and Virgil's eyes met, relief written over both their faces.

"Are you okay?" Alan asked, helping Scott to his feet. Scott nodded, moving to take off the mask, but Alan grabbed his brother's hand away.

"Keep it on for a bit, you scared us you know," he admitted. Scott rolled his eyes but stopped trying to remove the oxygen.

"Alright mother," he joked, rather touched by his little brother's concern. They took the elevator back up to the cockpit and Virgil dispatched Alan to sit with the hikers in a small, nondescript cabin – civilians were not allowed anywhere near the cockpit of the top-secret machine. Scott collapsed into the co-pilot's seat and once Alan was out of the room he did take the mask off. Virgil glanced over as he began the take-off sequence.

"You okay Scott?" he checked, noting the multiple small burns on his brother's hands and face and reassuring himself that he was not seriously hurt.

"Yeah, I'm fine, that was a close one though!" Scott remarked, his voice still hoarse from the hot gases he had been forced to inhale. He flexed his fingers, wincing slightly as the muscles in his forearms complained that they were not used to this kind of abuse. Virgil grinned – now that the danger was over he could joke about what had happened.

"I cannot believe you climbed that cliff solo. Why on earth didn't you wait for the winch?"

"If I had waited any longer I would be a crisp right now! Once Alan ran out of water those flames came up faster than you can imagine!" Scott protested. "If the rope hadn't burned through there wouldn't have been a problem."

"Well I sure am glad you made it up that cliff – father would have had our heads if you'd ended up as a crisp!" They had taken off and were now soaring high above the burning eucalyptus forest. It was a spectacular sight now that they weren't in it. Virgil plotted a course to the nearest city that was safe from the fires. They would drop off the hikers and then head back to base. The local firefighting teams were able to control the fringes of the blaze that threatened the sparsely populated areas without International Rescue's help.

"Father is going to have _my_ head for getting into such a dangerous situation..." Scott put his head in his hands in mock dejection, though in truth there was some real feeling in his demeanour. "Two mistakes, Virgil, is two too many and Dad is not going to be happy. I should have taken the oxygen down with me and we should have used a flame-resistant rope – _and_ had spares ready to go."

Virgil nodded reluctantly. "But it's true you couldn't have waited for the harness. I'll back you up on that at least," he assured. Their father was very exacting about their performance on missions and did not always completely understand the risks his children took in the heat of the situation. There was a silence in the cabin for a while as they both contemplated what they would say in the debriefing. After a while Virgil's thoughts had obviously wandered, as he began unconsciously humming part of the melody of his new symphony. Scott smiled slightly and shook his head. Typical.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you so much to all who reviewed already! I am so glad you like it so far._

_Don't worry, I promise to finish it! I have the whole thing in my head and it won't let me ignore it ^_~  
_

_Enjoy chapter 3. It's shorter, but Chapter 4 is nearly finished and is rather long, you'll see it tomorrow._

_-Ashelyn-  
_

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CHAPTER THREE

It wasn't long before Thunderbird Two returned to Tracy Island. The stop at the hospital had been momentary, just long enough to unload their cargo of smoke-stained hikers as Scott refused point-blank to be admitted. As he pointed out to his brothers, he would be there hours once the medical team got their hands on him and they were perfectly able to treat much more serious injury than minor burns and smoke inhalation back at the Island. Reluctantly Virgil had obeyed and now the three awaited their debriefing in the lounge. Truth be told, all of them felt a little apprehensive. The mission had ultimately been a success, but they had made several silly mistakes and they knew they were going to hear about them.

Gordon watched his father too. Seated unobtrusively in a corner of the room, he was dismayed at how ragged Scott appeared, his clothing blackened with soot, shiny burns marring his hands and face and his bright blue eyes reddened with smoke irritation. Scott wished he could have cleaned himself up before facing his father, but he had only been able to wash his face aboard Thunderbird Two and while he had managed to get most of the soot off his face and hands, the burns were now standing out livid against his pale skin. He knew he looked like a wreck. Which was not how wanted his father to see him.

The following lecture lived up to expectations. Gordon, listening, winced more than once on his brother's behalf. After all they _had_ saved the hikers, and nobody had been badly hurt and no valuable equipment damaged, but he knew saying anything would just make things worse and he had no intention of placing himself in the line of fire too.

Jeff wound up by scheduling a couple of training sessions to be held in the near future, stating that they obviously needed some practice. When the debriefing was finally over all four young men scattered. Gordon slipped down to the beach and worked off his feelings by swimming vigorously back and forth across the bay for a couple of hours. Virgil, after a quick shower, went made a beeline for the piano and lost himself in music. Alan found himself in the hanger of his little vintage tiger moth biplane and a few minutes tinkering saw him happy as you could please.

Scott worked his way along the rocky coast, navigating with a skill born of much practice the slippery and treacherous boulders. His nose and throat still burned inside and the cool sea air seemed to help. After half an hour's scrambling he ended up on a large boulder that jutted out into the ocean, out of sight of any of the island's dwellings or secret runways and hangars. Gazing out over the vast, tranquil ocean, he finally allowed his taut muscles to relax.

Scott didn't know how long he sat there, but eventually his reverie was broken by a voice calling his name. Glancing about, he realized with mild surprise that the sun had set and the last ragged golden clouds on the horizon were fading into the night.

"Scott! Wake up, you idiot!" It was Gordon, steering what Scott instantly recognized as the Rubber Ducky towards him. The aquanaut pulled the neon-yellow inflatable dinghy up beside his rock. With a jolt, Scott realized that the tide had come in and completely cut him off from the mainland. Black, swirling currents sucked and dragged around the rocky channels, making swimming even the short distance to shore too dangerous to contemplate.

"Hop in," Gordon advised, skilfully keeping the inflatable steady in the unpredictable currents. Scott leapt easily into the light dinghy, causing it to rock as he found his balance. His brother smiled wryly at him.

"What on earth were you thinking? You know better than to get cut off," he reprimanded lightly as he revved up the outboard motor and turned the Rubber Ducky towards home. Scott gave a half-hearted laugh.

"I just lost track of time...and the tide I guess. Thanks for looking out for me," he attempted a smile. Gordon frowned, unconvinced.

"Scott, you're not blaming yourself again are you," he asked bluntly. "Because you guys did a great job out there today and Father knows it." Gordon's clear blue eyes caught and held his brother's. "It's really hard being back here and unable to do anything when you guys are in danger." He explained seriously. "He's just strict because he could never forgive himself if anything happened to any of us."

Scott nodded. His mind knew that Gordon was right, but that didn't stop his heart from wishing he could have done better. He smiled at Gordon, properly this time, trying to reassure his younger brother.

"I know kiddo, you're right and I am fine really, just tired from today," he made an effort to lighten his mood. "And you did a great job too." Gordon shrugged.

"Just watched the monitor, nothing special about that," he said dismissively as the little boat chugged up to the jetty. Walking back to the house together, the brothers both gazed up at the darkening sky as the stars came out. With no light pollution dimming their glow, they filled the pacific sky in their millions, the trail of the Milky Way blazing a clear path through their midst. Two pairs of blue eyes automatically sought out the one point of light, directly above their heads, that never moved. Thunderbird Five, so near and yet so far. Gordon was the only one who didn't envy John right now.

"Well...I guess you better get some rest," Scott said at last. "You've got a training mission tomorrow, don't forget." There always had to be at least one of the five brothers on the Island in case a call came through and Scott had been given the reprieve this time, staying back from the training to recover from today's experience.

"Oh yeah," Gordon remembered. He was looking forward to finally getting off the island, even if it was only on training. And Virgil had promised to let him practice flying Thunderbird Two over to the remote jungle location where they would be training – it was no mean feat to persuade Virgil to let anyone else touch the controls of his baby and Gordon intended to make the most of it.


	4. Chapter 4

"Careful, Gordon!" Virgil hovered over his younger brother's shoulder, his fingers twitching with the barely restrained impulse to push Gordon out of his chair and grab the controls back. Gordon rolled his eyes.

"For the one hundredth time, I am not going to crash, Virg!" He exclaimed. "I am perfectly under control. I – whooaaaaa..." Thunderbird Two lurched dramatically to the right as Gordon inadvertently knocked a lever with his elbow, causing Virgil to stagger sideways across the cabin as the floor tilted sharply. "Oops," the aquanaut muttered, grabbing the lever back to stabilize the craft, and overcorrected. Behind him Virgil lurched back over to the left, barely managing to stay on his feet as he caught himself on a bulkhead. "Holy mackerel...!" Gordon swore under his breath and finally managed to straighten her up. He gave a dramatic sigh of relief, wiping imaginary sweat from his forehead for the benefit of his audience – consisting of Alan. "Who ever knew she was so touchy...uh oh..." Virgil was storming back towards him with a murderous look in his usually gentle brown eyes.

"That's it! Out! Right now!" Virgil demanded, pointing at the back seats Alan was just climbing back onto, having fallen off more due to fits of laughter than Gordon's unexpected manoeuvre.

"But Virgil, I -"

"Now!"

"If I could just -"

"Out of it!"

"How about –"

"Gordon!"

Gordon sighed and stood up reluctantly, Virgil practically shoving him out of the way as he took the controls back. The redhead glared back at Alan, who was still giggling, then looked sidelong at his older brother. He hesitated.

"Can't I at least..."

"GORDON!" Virgil yelled, clutching his hair in exasperation. "For the last time, _no_! Just sit down and shut up for a change!" Disappointed, Gordon shuffled back to seat himself beside his brother, where he proceeded, to Alan's great amusement, to imitate with comic exaggeration and ever-so-slightly crossed eyes Virgil's every move.

"Quiet, you in the cheap seats," Virgil ordered, a smile creeping onto his face despite himself as he glanced back, catching Gordon in the act of pulling some kind of ridiculous face. They were such _kids_, both of them.

With Virgil at the helm they made it to the jungle without any further mishaps and set up the series of training exercises Brains had designed. They took it in turns to be 'rescued', using various systems and also trying out the new equipment the engineer and inventor had sent out with them.

One of the last trials of the day involved a new, sleek handheld device that was meant to pick up incredibly detailed data from any human or animal in the area, including their surroundings and even what weapons they were carrying, and project a holographic beam that would point towards their location, making it easier to locate missing people in dense cover. Virgil dropped Gordon and Alan off at a remote location and the two brothers began hiking through the thick jungle to give the gadget a few different situations to deal with. Virgil flew Thunderbird Two several miles away to run the test. However, something wasn't quite right with the device and despite following detailed instructions from Brains through the communications system the information the new gadget was giving didn't match up with the GPS location from his brother's watches and transceivers.

"It's no good, you two," Virgil finally spoke to them through their watches. "Brains says he needs to check some of the programming on this thing and it's getting late. Meet me at the rendezvous point." He directed them to a place he had spotted earlier, a natural clearing where he could land the massive aircraft without crushing several metres worth of rainforest. They always tried to leave as little impact on the land as possible – all part of the top secrecy that was so important to their mission.

"F.A.B Virgil," Alan replied and they set off for the clearing, less than a mile away though hiking through the dense undergrowth would take them longer than usual to reach it.

After a while Gordon paused. "Do you hear that?" he asked his brother. Alan stopped and cocked his head, slowing his breathing to focus on his surroundings.

"I don't hear anything..." he shook his head after a short while. Gordon looked worried.

"Exactly...me either. There are no bird calls, no natural sound...something's wrong." Alan frowned. His brother was right. It was unnaturally silent all of a sudden.

"What do you think – HEY!" Alan yelled in shock and alarm as movement erupted from the bushes around them. Within seconds they were surrounded by a whole group of threatening-looking men dressed in rough-and-ready camouflage colours, dirty cloth wrapped around their faces and heads obscuring their features. Alan had barely had time to start for his gun before they were on him. Struggling, he lashed out and landed a punch squarely on one man's nose. Cartilage crunched and his attacker howled and put his hands to his face, blood pouring through his fingers as he staggered back, but three more men took his place and Alan was unable to land any more blows, though he got in a few good kicks that caused yelps of pain around him. He caught sight of two men stumbling away from Gordon as his brother fought and kicked wildly, until a third slammed a heavy metal object with brutal force into the back of his head. Gordon dropped like a stone. Alan yelled in rage, struggling wildly until lightning exploded over his left eye and a grey emptiness claimed him.

* * *

Gordon was woken by somebody groaning. His eyes felt swollen and he squinted against even the dim light that reached him. God, he had a headache. And was that rather pathetic noise really coming from him? Jeez...

Slowly his brain began to kick in. Why was he sleeping on the ground? Last thing he remembered was...

He jerked bolt upright and then wished he hadn't as his head spun sickeningly. They'd been attacked! A group of dark-clad men...he must have been knocked out. Gingerly he touched the painful place at the back of his head. His fingers came away sticky with half-clotted blood, but he gritted his teeth and probed it gently with his fingers, making sure it was not bleeding freely any more. Their attackers had come out of nowhere. They had completed the training session, and then...

They. Where was Alan? Gordon struggled to his feet and glanced urgently around, pushing the pain aside. He was alone in some kind of huge cavern. He could see what must be the entrance at least two hundred metres away, the dim light in the cave being cast by a storm lantern set off to one side of a subterranean lake, and the sound of moving water suggested it was fed by a fairly swift river somewhere. Crates, containers and misshapen bundles lined the walls. But there was no sign of human life at all. Gordon was mystified. Why was he here? His attackers must have dragged him here after knocking him out, but what was their motive?

Whatever they were after it couldn't be good. He glanced down at his wrist but as he expected they had stripped him of his watch, satellite phone and transceiver, and his gun and holster were also missing. They had been thorough – even the sharp switchblade he kept concealed in a sleeve sheath had been taken. So he was unarmed, and unable to be traced without any electronics on him. Gordon frowned, trying to think logically past his headache. His first priority should be to try and get some backup, but he was too worried about Alan. What had they done with him?

A muffled yell caught his attention and he crept towards the sound, keeping close to the cover of the stacked goods. Whatever else was going on here, there was definitely some kind of illegal operation, probably drug or weapon smuggling, or both. There were voices coming from a tunnel that branched off from the main cavern and Gordon moved stealthily down the dark passage until he turned a sharp corner and stopped abruptly, stifling a cry of dismay at the scene he saw before him.

His younger brother was slumped against a stone pillar that rose from floor to ceiling of a large cave that seemed to have been carved out until it resembled a proper room. His hands were behind his back – probably bound, though Gordon couldn't see – and his face was smeared with blood that seeped from a gash above one eye. A tall, hooded figure stood over him and Gordon clenched his fists in rage as he kicked the defenceless prisoner cruelly.

"Silence will not help you boy! Tell me how you knew about the weapon. You and the other one were looking for it. Speak or it will only get worse for you!" Alan gritted his teeth as the heavy boot connected again.

"I already told you, I don't know anything about any weapon!" he said, hopelessness creeping into his tone. He knew the man wouldn't believe him. He obviously wasn't going to believe anything Alan said unless it matched what he thought was true.

"Pah! So I am to believe two spies loaded with weapons and fancy gadgets are creeping around within metres of our top secret hideout, in the middle of the remote jungle, for no reason? Do you take me for a fool, boy?"

It was all Gordon could do not to leap out and attack the man who began savagely laying into his brother in frustration, but he was aware of at least three other armed men in the room and knew he needed a better plan if he didn't want to be shot down before he even reached his brother. Alan was telling the truth, they really hadn't had any idea they were stumbling upon some secret base, all they were doing was a simple training expedition.

Gordon turned and ran lightly back towards the big cave he had woken up in. Maybe there was something in those crates he could use. A symbol on a large metal case caught his eye. If that was what he thought it was, it would be perfect. The case was locked but that didn't deter him. Grabbing a loose rock from the cave floor he quickly smashed the mechanism and was rewarded by the sight of rows of smoke grenades. Grabbing as many as he could carry he hurried back down the tunnel. Taking careful aim, he pulled out the pin and lobbed the grenade as hard as he could across the room. His aim was true and the heavy object hit one of the guards in the face, instantly breaking his nose, and exploded, releasing a thick cloud of smoke that quickly spread. Gordon didn't hesitate. As yells and curses began echoing through the cave he thew the other two grenades in opposite directions and dashed, bent double, through the thick smoke towards where he knew Alan was lying.

A gun was fired and a bullet richoched off the walls, the sharp retort echoing through the cave and adding to the confusion as Gordon reached his brother. He could barely see in front of his face and the smoke made him want to cough but he knew he mustn't, any sound would give away their position. He could hear the man closest to Alan stumbling about and swearing and he knew he had to be quick. He grabbed Alan's arm but his brother yanked away from his grip.

"Alan, it's me," Gordon hissed, reaching out again. "Come on, quick before they figure out what's going on." Alan immediately stopped resisting.

"My hands are tied to the pillar behind me, there's a knife in my boot they didn't find," he whispered urgently. Gordon felt for the small blade and slipped it out of its hiding place, sawing quickly through the ropes. A distorted shape loomed up through the smoke just as he cut through and he yanked his brother forward, pulling him on as they stumbled over the uneven ground, heading for where he thought the tunnel was.

His outstretched arm touched unyielding stone. Frantically Gordon felt around, the tunnel should be right here! He stepped rapidly sideways and with great relief his fingers found a corner.

"Down here, there's a way out through the next cave," he explained quickly as they ran down the tunnel. Alan tried to control the gasps for air that sounded abnormally loud in his ears, the smoke had not penetrated far into the narrow tunnel but the abuse he had suffered was taking its toll and his bruised ribs were on fire, making breathing painful. He hoped it wasn't far to the exit, he didn't think he could run for much longer.

Gordon slowed his pace, he should have been able to see the dim light from the other cave by now but the black tunnel just kept going on. He swore softly and stopped. Alan leaned against the wall, grateful for the respite.

"I think in the smoke I took the wrong tunnel," Gordon admitted worriedly. He still had hold of Alan's wrist, the darkness was almost complete and if he let go they could easily be separated. "It's like a rabbit warren down here."

Alan groaned softly. "Well we can't go back, let's just keep going. This tunnel's got to lead somewhere." He replied. They both listened carefully, they could hear voices shouting and echoing but it seemed that their pursuers hadn't found the tunnel they had chosen. Gordon nodded, forgetting his brother couldn't see him.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly. "Looked like you took quite a beating..."

"I'll live," was Alan's response, "Let's just get out of here and then I'll be happy to collapse in a soggy heap somewhere..." Gordon chuckled despite himself and led his brother on, moving much more slowly now as they seemed to have lost their pursuers as well as themselves and it was better not to risk injury by unnecessary haste, a broken ankle was as good as a death sentence down here.

"Do they know who we are?" He asked after a while. They weren't in uniform, so he wasn't sure how they had figured it out – unless they'd spotted Thunderbird Two at some point.

"No, at first I thought they must but it seems like we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time," Alan replied. "From what I could tell they think we are spies from a foreign government, he kept trying to trick me into speaking a different language, though I don't know what it was." Gordon gave an expressive sigh.

"Just our luck. Why does everything happen to us?" He complained half-jokingly. "The others already think we go looking for trouble. They'll never let us live this one down!"

"I think that's light up ahead," Alan whispered after several age-long minutes of stumbling through the pitch black tunnel. Gordon agreed and they cautiously moved towards it. The tunnel began to narrow and lower and they were soon forced to crawl in single file, Alan keeping one hand on Gordon's boot and trying not to think about how claustrophobic this place was. It took far longer than they expected to reach the small opening that allowed a steady bluish light to spill softly into their tunnel. Cautiously Alan edged up until they lay side by side and peered out at the strange scene that met their eyes.

A small but perfectly rounded cave was illuminated by the weird blue light that spread evenly around the space with no obvious source. The floor of the cave was several metres below their tunnel and in the centre of the floor a plain pedestal of some dark metal rose. Atop it was a spherical object about the size of a baseball, dark of hue and etched around with curious horizontal lines. Apart from the sphere and pedestal the room was completely deserted.

"I think the light's coming from that thing," Alan whispered after a while. Gordon blinked at this theory, but realized his brother was right. The sphere was indeed emitting that strange blue light.

"You know what I'm thinking? That's gotta be the weapon that guy was ranting about." He whispered back, and heard Alan's intake of breath.

"If you're right then that thing is extremely dangerous...I heard them talking while they thought I was still knocked out, it's a prototype of a new weapon of mass destruction...they said it's a newly discovered reaction that has the power of five hundred H-bombs - that means about 5,000 megatons." Gordon blanched at this.

"That thing there could flatten a whole country?" he swore and stared at the sinister globe. So small and yet so deadly. The creepy blue glow must be something to do with the new kind of reaction.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Alan murmured after a while. Gordon sighed.

"If you're thinking that we should take it, then yeah, I am. And we should...I just don't fancy walking around with the power to destroy the whole country in my pocket!"

"But we can't leave it here. They must be a terrorist group, they're definitely not a government and nobody else would have such a thing. Who knows what they could use it on," Alan whispered intently. "And they can't get another one either. From what they were saying, the scientist who made the discovery wouldn't sell to them. He destroyed all his plans and they ended up killing him just to get their hands on this prototype. Now they are trying to figure out how he did it, but they haven't gotten anywhere."

"Okay then, but let's plan this as well as we can. Once we drop out of this tunnel it'll be difficult to get back up, the walls are sheer and besides the terrorists are back there," Gordon pointed out.

"That's an exit there," Alan pointed across the room. It was difficult to see as the door was made of the same substance as the walls, but the straight vertical lines differed from the grain of the rock and marked it out for keen eyes to see.

"Yes, but it's probably guarded on the outside...they're not going to just leave this thing unattended. I think we'll just have to risk going back to the main cavern, at least we know what we're dealing with there and I can find the way out." Alan agreed, who knew what was beyond those doors and it seemed that this small entrance to the room had been overlooked. "Right, you stay here and I'll grab the weapon. I'll throw it up to you and get back in and then we should move as quickly as possible, there's bound to be an alarm even if we can't see it." Gordon instructed and prepared to make the several metres drop into the room.

"Wait!" Alan had an idea. "Do you have any more of those smoke grenades?" Gordon nodded, there was one left in his pocket. "Drop it down there first, it will show up any lasers and also test the floor for traps," he suggested.

"Good idea," Gordon agreed and took the small grenade, dropping it carefully onto the stone floor. Immediately the gases began swirling around the chamber and sure enough, several intercrossed lines of infra-red light were revealed, centring around the weapon. Quickly Gordon dropped to the ground, hoping to cross the room while the lines were still visible and easier to avoid. No alarms sounded and he stepped lightly towards the sphere, carefully ducking under and stepping over, avoiding the beams. He reached the pedestal with no mishaps and lifted the weapon from its place.

There was a sudden rumbling noise and the floor began to shake. Gordon lurched forward, nearly dropping the sphere as the ground shook and slid under his feet.

"Quick, Gordon run!" Alan shouted in dismay as he saw the floor begin to retreat, sliding into the wall and exposing a black pit of unfathomable depth below. His brother darted towards him, breaking laser beams everywhere as he fought for balance on the rapidly disappearing surface. Alarms began to shrill deafeningly.

"Catch!" He called and tossed the sphere up towards his brother. Alan's heart was in his mouth as he deftly caught the lethal weapon in both hands and pushed it into his pocket, trying not to think about what it was he carried.

"Jump Gordon, hurry!" He leaned out of the tunnel to catch his brother's arm as he leapt for the tunnel, ignoring the scream of bruised limbs as he took Gordon's weight. Gordon's feet scrambled for purchase as he dragged himself up with Alan's aid, sliding head-first into the tunnel just as the door opened and men rushed forward. The front few were too late to stop and fell with a scream into the gaping hole where the floor should be. The brothers didn't wait to see what would happen next and whether the men knew about their tunnel. If they didn't yet, they soon would. Alan did not have room to turn around. He wriggled backward faster than he would have thought possible, straightening up as soon as the tunnel allowed it with Gordon hot on his heels. They pelted down the tunnel, the glow from the globe penetrating through the fabric of Alan's pocket and gently illumining the immediate area. This was good for visibility, but extremely bad for stealth.

"Wait," Gordon called suddenly. Alan spun around. "There's another tunnel, I can feel fresher air, we should go this way." Alan nodded and ran back, following Gordon down yet another narrow, damp and dark passageway.

"I swear...if we ever get out of here...I am _never_ going in a cave again..." he panted. Gordon would have laughed if he'd had the breath. Soon he saw light up ahead– real, honest sunlight this time – and gave a cry of relief. Again they were obliged to crawl as they reached the tunnel mouth and peered out – only to stare at each other in dismay. They were looking out of a small opening in an almost vertical mountain face that dropped thousands of feet down into a vicious, rocky gorge.

"Now what?" Alan groaned. Gordon's face was grim. There were voices in the tunnel behind them and he knew they were being pursued.

"We can't go down. So we have to go up." He said flatly, craning around to stare up the cliff face. It was smooth, except for a long vertical crack in the rock that started a few feet above them and rose high up the cliff. It would be possible to climb, if only they could reach it. "You go first. I'll boost you – try and reach that crack and you should be fine," he said, looking anxiously at his younger brother. In the light of day Alan looked terrible, his face bruised, battered and covered in dried blood. Alan nodded resolutely.

"What about you, how will you get up?" he asked.

"No problem, I'll make it, there's a couple of handholds," Gordon said quickly, he knew he had a better chance of making the crack than Alan in this state. "Quick, I can hear them coming." They positioned themselves on the edge of the tunnel lip, Gordon bracing his legs against the sides of the tunnel as he gave his brother a strong boost. Alan found a good handhold and pulled himself up with a grunt of effort. Gordon was right – the crack was wide and gave good purchase. Thank God they had both done some rock climbing before. He jammed his fingers into the crack and inched his way upward, giving Gordon enough room to follow.

Gordon steeled his nerve and refused to think about the drop. Springing upward, his heart hammered as his fingers scrabbled and scraped on the rough stone before finding their handholds. With more brute strength than skill he forced his way up to the dubious haven of the crack, panting with effort.

"You okay?" Alan peered down anxiously.

"Sssh, they're nearly on us," Gordon hissed back. They froze in place, praying the men would not think to look up.

A head popped out of the tunnel and looked left, right and down. Someone inside the tunnel shouted in a foreign language and the head shook in a negative gesture, yelling something back before withdrawing. The brothers gave a simultaneous sigh of relief, but couldn't relax yet. They had shaken off their pursuers and they had the weapon, but they were still in an extremely dangerous situation, clinging like barnacles to a meagre crack halfway up a thousand-foot cliff.

"Gordon, I see a ledge above us, maybe twenty feet," Alan called down. "If we can just get there..." Gordon nodded, they could figure out what to do once they were in a safer position.

"Go for it, I'm right behind you," he began climbing, his muscles trembling with adrenalin. He was only too aware that one false move would mean a long, long drop and a sudden stop.

It felt like hours before they were able to drag themselves onto the ledge, though it was really only minutes. The ledge was barely a foot wide but compared with what they'd been through it felt like a park bench. Wearily they sat with their backs against the cliff face, legs dangling.

"Lovely view," Gordon commented after a while. There was a pause, then Alan caught his eye. Instantaneously they dissolved into helpless laughter. Tears poured down Gordon's cheeks, it really wasn't that funny but the relief from intense stress needed to express itself somehow. Alan groaned and laughed at the same time, his sore ribs protesting. Gordon turned, sobering down.

"You okay?" He asked. Alan paused for dramatic effect.

"Lovely view!" He mimicked, and they were off again.

This was how, to his lasting amazement, Virgil found them, bloodied, bruised, perched precariously on a narrow ledge halfway up a sheer mountain face, in stitches of laughter.

Gordon and Alan had never been more glad to see the huge green shape of Thunderbird Two. The massive cargo carrier manoeuvred with a delicacy that belied her size and spoke of her pilot's skill. Virgil edged toward the cliff face and hovered, lowering a rescue platform to winch the two youngest Tracys back into safety.

Virgil turned from the pilot's seat and gave a wordless exclamation of horror as they entered the cabin.

"What on earth happened to you two?" He gasped, then shook his head. "Alan, sit down before you fall down," he ordered, guiding his craft up out of the mountains and pointing her towards home, before switching to autopilot and striding over to where his brothers had dropped in exhaustion onto the back seats.

"You didn't meet me at the rendezvous and neither of you answered your watches so I came looking. And where do I find you but halfway up a cliff face with no apparent way of getting there! Even by your standards that's pretty far out! How the heck did you manage it?" he quickly pulled a large first-aid kit from a locker and handed Alan a bunch of antiseptic wipes. "Clean your face up, I can't see anything for the blood," he instructed. "And Gordon, you're not much better...do you realize you have two black eyes?"

"Yeah, you look like a panda," Alan teased as he wiped blood and dust from his face. Gordon smirked.

"Well it looks like the sun is setting in your face! What a lovely range of colours!" he retorted. Virgil sighed.

"Honestly you two..." he inspected Alan's cut. "I don't think this will need stitches Alan, it looks worse than it is - head wounds always bleed a lot. What else?" Alan shrugged painfully.

"I don't think anything's broken, I'm just bruised all over. Check Gordon," he directed Virgil to the gash on the back of his brother's head. "They got you with some kind of metal baton, you went out like a light," he told him. "To be honest I half-thought they'd killed you...I can't believe you didn't even get a concussion! You must have a head like a rock!" Gordon grinned, wincing as Virgil's gentle fingers parted the matted hair.

"You'll have to try harder than that to get rid of me," he joked. Virgil was unimpressed.

"This one is going to need stitches if I am not mistaken..." Gordon sighed. More stitches. At least this scar would be hidden under his hair.

"Say Alan, what's in your pocket?" He changed the subject, a mischievous glint in his eye. Alan started and his fingers went gingerly to where the sphere rested. He'd actually forgotten about it in the drama of the escape. Gingerly he drew it out and looked at it. Virgil whistled.

"What _is _that?" he asked curiously. Alan grinned.

"This little baby is a bomb powerful enough to level half of America!" Virgil gasped.

"You're kidding me. That thing?" he exclaimed, eyeing the pattern of horizontal lines that etched the side. Gently he took it from Alan, examining it closely.

"Hmm, I see...a combination of twists in the right directions would arm it. A little like a Rubix cube," he mused.

"Well _don't_ arm it Virgil!" Alan protested as his brother's sensitive fingers explored the weapon. Virgil grinned.

"Don't worry, I want to keep myself in one piece even if you don't! We'd better get this to Brains and see if he can dissemble it. And see if Kyrano can patch you two up. How you get into so much trouble on a simple training mission..." he trailed off expressively.

"It wasn't _our_ fault!" Both of them exclaimed.

"Tell that to Father..."

Gordon and Alan exchanged apprehensive glances at that.

"Um, Virgil...maybe we could just not mention this to Dad..." Virgil laughed out loud at that one.

"And where did you both get so beat up? Or did you fight each other? I'm not sure that will go down any better, and besides you have to tell him about the bomb and you don't exactly find that kind of thing lying around." His younger brothers sighed in unison. Virgil took pity on them and shook his head.

"Ok, just tell me what happened and we'll go from there," he grinned. He was dying to know what kind of scrape his brothers had gotten themselves into _this_ time.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you, reviewers! :)_

_-Ashelyn-  
_

* * *

On a state-of-the-art space station, a solitary young man turned away from a telescope that was fixed on a distant binary system and was drawn, unusually, to gaze upon the huge blue-green planet beneath him. Of course, Tracy Island was far too small for John to see with his naked eyes, sharp though they were. Thunderbird Five's geostationary orbit positioned it always above his island home and the slender astronaut easily found its co-ordinates between invisible lines of latitude, noting that the white spiral shape of the hurricane whose tail end had brushed past the island seemed to have blown itself out.

It was a lonely position and many people – including several of his brothers - would have been out of their minds with boredom, but John barely noticed his solitude. He was more at ease among the stars than in the company of other people, and he had discovered more about deep space than any other man alive, from his perfect observation point onboard the satellite. He turned away from the view of Earth and began his hourly routine, meticulously checking the multiple streams of information that were constantly picked up and run through numerous filters that checked for key words in every language on the planet. Any communications, whether military, civilian, media or political, were automatically decoded and sorted based on the amount and severity of key words. Anything containing the phrase "Calling International Rescue" or a number of other maydays would immediately set off a red alert.

John swiftly and efficiently worked his way through the information that flashed up on flat-screen monitors around the control room. Nothing had come up on red alert since the bush fire that morning, and he skimmed through the more mundane messages that showed up on amber alert without much interest, before turning to the screens that showed data picked up from the local space.

Something on one of the monitors caught his eye and he frowned. That was one of his new experiments, an inordinately complex program he had been working on for years that he hoped would enable him to find the 'dark matter' of space that still eluded astronomers. Nothing had ever showed up before. So what the heck was that? His long, slender fingers flew over the touch-screen consoles as he rapidly collated all the relevant information. The worry line etched between his eyebrows deepened as the data began to add up.

It was time to call base.

Back on Tracy Island, when John's portrait began flashing Gordon and Alan's bruised faces showed such comic relief that their father was hard put to keep his stern countenance.

"Saved by the bell," Alan said under his breath as their father answered the call. They listened with interest as John described what he had found.

"That's right Dad, a dark asteroid three-quarters of a mile across. Theoretically we've known they've existed for years – remember that massive unexplained explosion in Siberia in the 20th century - that was attributed to a dark asteroid, and there are other examples – but nobody's ever been able to prove their existence because they're made of a substance invisible to all regular technology that works by picking up light or radio waves. In effect they are perfectly transparent. But using my new program I've been able to run several scans and done some transects on its trajectory," John explained, his words almost falling over each other in his enthusiasm. "It's a real beauty." Jeff's eyebrows raised and Gordon and Alan's eyes met in amusement. Surely John was the only one who would describe an invisible projectile flying through space as a "beauty". It was rare to see their quiet brother so animated, and they couldn't remember when he'd said so many words together as that.

"I've triple-checked all my calculations," John continued. "So here's the bad news: the asteroid will enter Earth's atmosphere at 2200 hours your time on Friday – 53 hours from now. It's so big that it will cleave through the atmosphere as if it weren't even there and hit Earth at its cosmic velocity, straight into the Pacific Ocean." He gave the coordinates. "The ocean there is four miles deep, but the asteroid will still hit the sea bed with a force of hundreds of megatons."

He was rewarded for this information by three stunned expressions. Alan was the first to find his tongue.

"John, that's practically right on top of us!" He gasped. His brother nodded.

"Yeah, and it's gonna take me out on its way to you guys. Remember I'm in fixed orbit above you," he gave a wry smile. Gordon shook his head in disbelief.

"That meteor strike is going displace one helluva lot of water...that will cause a ripple effect of massive mega-tsunamis that will wipe out every island in the Pacific, not to speak of Japan, the west coasts of the Americas, eastern Australia and New Zealand," Gordon's eyes were huge as he realized the scope of the disaster that was approaching. "We're talking at _least_ 500 foot waves here, and plenty of them."

"And if that's not enough, the heat of its entry would cause anything organic within 200 miles to spontaneously combust," Alan added.

John nodded solemnly.

"I figured it would be something along those lines," he agreed. "So we better do something about it, right?" he looked towards his father. Jeff was frowning in thought.

"What are the chances of knocking it off a collision course? Alan?" His youngest son shook his head.

"No way...it's too big for us to affect like that. At that size it will have enough of a gravitational field to land on, though..." an idea was taking shape in his mind. "What say we blow it up? The fragments will cause a meteorite shower but they'll be small enough to burn up in the atmosphere before they hit," he suggested. Gordon rolled his eyes.

"He wants to blow it up. Typical teenager," He teased and received a cushion in his bruised face for his effort. "Ow!"

Jeff shook his head, ignoring his son's antics. "How would you suggest we blow it up? We have no missiles powerful enough to even make a dent in that thing."

Alan grinned. "No, but there _is _something Gordon and I picked up today that might help..." he reminded them. All eyes went to the spherical weapon that was now sitting on Jeff's command desk. John raised a blond eyebrow. He could see the object from his screen, but had no idea what it could be.

"That thing?" he asked sceptically. Alan and Gordon rushed to explain, their sentences tripping over each other as they described their latest adventure to their brother – with, Jeff noted with grim humour, much more embellishment than the version they had given him...

John's eyes were wide by the time they'd finished. "I did wonder why Gordon so much resembles a panda today..." he trailed off, ignoring his little brother's outraged splutters as he considered the disarmed bomb, so small and yet so incredibly powerful, sitting there on his father's desk. "Say, if we could get that thing to go off inside that asteroid somehow it would blow it to smithereens."

"That's exactly what I think!" Alan agreed excitedly, turning back to his father. "Dad, I can take it up in Thunderbird Three and Brains can make a remote detonator. It'll be awesome!" Jeff actually laughed out loud at his son's enthusiasm.

"Okay Alan, let's call the others in, I'd like to send Scott up with you, you need a level head up there," Jeff shook his head at his excited son.

"Can't I go, Dad?" Gordon asked disappointedly.

"Not this time son, you just got six stitches in your head," Jeff reminded him gruffly, but his eyes were compassionate. He wasn't completely insensitive, he knew perfectly well that Gordon hated being left behind and that it happened to him more than to the others, but there was really no help for it this time. There was no way he was letting his son go on a space mission in that kind of state. He wouldn't have agreed to Alan going either if it wasn't for the fact that none of the others could fly Thunderbird Three like Alan could.

Soon Scott, Virgil and "Brains" responded to their summons and were updated on the situation. Brains was immediately intrigued by the bomb and whisked it away to his laboratory, promising to have a remote detonator made within a couple of hours, while Gordon and Alan suffered through Scott's dismayed exclamations on their battered appearance.

"Yes I _know,_" Gordon retorted with a mixture of irritation and self-depreciating humour,"I look like a panda, you're only the fifth person to have told me!" Scott rolled his eyes but subsided as Virgil considered the mission at hand.

"We're going to need the Worm to get the bomb deep enough into the asteroid so that it will shatter," he mused. "The Mole would be better, then we wouldn't have to spacewalk, but of course she won't fit in Thunderbird Three."

They discussed the finer details of the plan. John would be in charge of calculating the complex web of mathematics and physics that would enable Thunderbird Three to match velocity with the asteroid long enough to land. The asteroid was large enough to have a gravitational field, which while far weaker than even the moon's, would be enough for the space rocket to be able to land. They would then use the Worm to plant the bomb, take off and get far enough away to blow the thing without blowing themselves up too.

"The bomb must be detonated before the asteroid reaches the earth's upper atmosphere." Jeff instructed. "That means we have about 48 hours to get the mission completed. Also, I want you to pick John up on the way. If you detonate it in time it's unlikely that the smaller debris will strike Thunderbird 5 and if it did I doubt it could penetrate her shields but I don't want anyone onboard just in case. And boys, this mission must not fail. The entire Pacific basin is depending on you, as am I."

They all nodded seriously. They knew the stakes were higher than usual on this one.

"Alright. Virgil and Gordon, get the Worm loaded. Scott, the bomb and detonator and any more information Brains can give you. John, you have a couple of hours to prepare the trajectories. And Alan, prepare for take-off."

"F.A.B!"


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks for reviewing everyone! It is much appreciated. :) Hope you enjoy this one!_

_-Ashelyn-  
_

* * *

On the bridge of Thunderbird Three, the only sounds to be heard were regular electronic bleeps and the occasional musical tone that indicated some automated check had been successfully completed, sounding over the background humming of the rocket's powerful engines that propelled it at incredible speeds through the void towards the ever closing asteroid that hurtled its way toward the Earth. Alan and John stood silently together at the main console, blond heads bent in concentration as they worked on the large sensitive touch-screens, their fingers skimming and tapping with pinpoint accuracy. Scott was down in the cargo hold, making sure that everything was set to go as soon as they landed.

"We have life-size visual," John's voice broke the silence as the image of the asteroid flicked onto a large monitor above their heads. The picture was computer-generated using John's program, so they were able to watch it grow slowly but surely on the screen where they would not be able to see it in real life. Now came the tricky part. John fed streams of symbols and equations into the data banks, Alan using the information to bring them into line with the asteroid. The velocity of Thunderbird Three had to match that of the asteroid so they would have the smallest possible relative speeds, allowing the rocket to safely land on the rocky surface.

With incredible skill and delicacy, the two astronauts manoeuvred Thunderbird Three towards the surface of the asteroid. The escape velocity was a mere 22mph, so they barely needed to touch on the thrusters to make the landing.

"Engage thrusters in five...four...three...two...one...now!" John counted down and Alan fired up the rocket boosters, not too much or they'd be heading back into space. He didn't need to worry – the amount he applied was perfect and the great rocket touched down as gently as you could imagine. Down in the cargo bay Scott whistled in appreciation. He hadn't even needed to brace himself for the impact.

"Nice job boys," Scott praised them through the video link that connected them with the bridge. Alan grinned and John ducked his head, as pleased as his brother with the landing.

"Thanks Scott!" Alan replied. He left the helm to John and took the elevator down to the cargo bay to join his older brother in donning space suits and air tanks. They clamped extra weights onto their feet to anchor them to the asteroid's surface. The Worm had also had weights attached to its frame and special off-road tyres would enable them to manoeuvre the drilling machine over the rough ground. As if in slow motion Scott and Alan dragged it into the airlock, the heavy weighted space suits making it difficult to lift their feet in the normal gravity of the cargo bay. The airlock doors sealed closed and the chamber began to depressurize. Scott grinned widely at his brother as they waited for the process to complete.

"I guess we'll be the first people ever to walk on an asteroid!" his voice was relayed into Alan's earpiece as well as sounding in the bridge, where John watched them on video. Alan grinned back as the airlock light switched from red to green and the outside door slid open.

"Hmm...doesn't look like much," he joked. In fact, being a dark asteroid, it looked like nothing. The asteroid was invisible below their feet. The stars, however, were incredible, below, above and on every side. There was no time for sightseeing though, and quickly Scott and Alan pushed the Worm out onto the invisible surface of the asteroid, moving much more easily in the low gravity as their safety lines paid out behind them, floating weirdly as if in waist-high water. The strange bouncy motion of a cosmic body with even less gravity than the Moon took some getting used to, but they didn't need to go far. After a moment data streams began to appear before their eyes. John was projecting a real-life, grid-lined image of the surface onto their viewscreens and enabling them to "see" the asteroid. Carefully they anchored the high-tech drilling machine and set it going. A set of magnetic clamps held the heavy, weighted case where the now-armed bomb was safely laid. Usually the Worm was a noisy machine, but of course here it was silent - sound waves needed atmosphere to travel through and there was none on the asteroid. Efficiently the vibrating blades bored rapidly into the substance of the asteroid like a knife through butter, disappearing into the tunnel it created and paying out a line that would winch it back up once it had reached its maximum depth, which enabled it to plant the bomb almost exactly in the very core of the asteroid.

While they waited for the Worm to do its job Alan and Scott gazed about them. They were surrounded by the infinite void of space and the twinkle of the stars and planets. The artificial horizon John had created for them was a sharp curve, compared to what they were used to on Earth, making it feel like they were standing on top of a ball. The sun was a bright star on one side, illumining the Earth on the other, a blue marble-sized orb too far away to make out the continents. Even as they watched Earth appeared to move, the asteroid rotating in space and changing their viewpoint.

Before long the Worm had dug its long tunnel and all the wire was paid out, its slenderness belying its extreme strength as it lowered the weapon into the core of the asteroid. Scott moved to the control panel, intending to deactivate the magnetic clamps and pull up the Worm, sans bomb.

There was a short pause before he spoke. "Okay, the magnetic clamps are not de-activating," Scott sounded unconcerned, but anyone who knew him like John and Alan did could tell he was disturbed. Their elder brother only took on that particular calm, level tone when something had gone wrong. Alan frowned.

"Lemme see," he floated over beside his brother, pushing the control lever back and forth a few times. Scott rolled his eyes. Of course Alan had to try it himself...

"You're right," his little brother said after a few moments. Scott just managed to refrain from making a sarcastic remark. "It's stuffed. But it was working fine when you tested it in the cargo bay! John, any ideas?"

Back on the bridge John was already running through the options. "I'm not sure, but I would guess it's something to do with the composition of the asteroid. It's really difficult to get much information on what it's made of, but among other things it has some kind of metallic substance near its core. That could be affecting the magnetic clamping system." Scott and Alan both frowned.

"Well, we could leave the Worm here, I guess," Alan suggested.

"Sure, if you want to be the one to tell Dad we blew up our own equipment along with the asteroid!" Scott shook his head with a slight grin. "Do you even know how much valuable equipment you've destroyed since we started International Rescue?"

Alan spluttered indignantly. "Not fair! Okay, here's another idea, and I'm still waiting for yours by the way – I'll crawl down the hole and manually unclamp the magnets from the case. Then we can take your precious Worm back home in one piece!" Alan moved a couple of paces to where the Worm had tunnelled.

"Alan, wait! That's too dangerous!" Scott protested.

"What's dangerous about it? There's nothing down there!"

"Except an extremely powerful bomb!"

"Well...yeah, but you know what I mean," Alan glared at his brother. "Look, do you have a better idea?"

Scott was forced to admit he did not.

"Okay. You wait here - I'm going down. No but's!" Scott cut off his younger brother's protest. "I'm not going to be the one who explains to Dad why I let you get your head stuck down a rabbit hole on an asteroid scheduled for demolition," he joked, gently pushing his brother aside and kneeling beside the tunnel. Alan sighed, hearing steely determination in Scott's tone and knowing there was no point in arguing. When it came to a battle of wills between the eldest Tracy and the youngest, Alan lost every time.

The tunnel the Worm had bored was just a few feet wide, a hole just large enough for Scott, clad in the cumbersome space suit, to crawl along. It was smooth edged and marked out on his viewscreen by John's grid lines. As Scott inched his way down the long tunnel, he felt rather like he was crawling through glass, as he could still see the stars around him through the transparent substance of the asteroid. The lack of gravity meant he couldn't tell which way was really up, so while to Alan it looked like his brother was defying Earth-bound logic by crawling headfirst down the side of a vertical shaft, from Scott's point of view he was going forwards toward the speck that was the Worm's magnetic clasp and the casing of the bomb.

"What am I doing? I must be crazy..." he muttered to himself, a bead of sweat dripping into his eyes from the physical exertion. "How much further to go, John?"

"You're just over halfway there," his brother told him from the bridge, where he was mapping Scott's progress. "I hate to pressure you but here's a time check. We need to leave the surface in thirty minutes absolute latest or we won't be clear of the blast. If you keep moving at this speed you only have two minutes to unclamp the bomb."

Scott swore and tried to move faster, though he was already doing his best.

"Not to worry," Alan piped in. "I'll give you a hand on the way back up...I can pull your safety cord!" Scott half-laughed, half-groaned at this bright idea.

"Why does that not reassure me?"

After a few more minutes that seemed like hours he finally reached the bomb casing. The magnetic clamps had a lever that would manually release them, but unfortunately it was on the far side of the machine and though he strained his arm as far as it would go, the lever was out of his reach in the confined space.

"I'll have to dissemble the mechanism," he relayed back to the others, carefully pulling a weighted tool from a pouch in his space suit.

"Okay, but make it quick," John's eyes were on the clock. He was getting anxious about this. No matter how valuable the machine was, it wasn't worth Scott's life.

Scott tinkered with the mechanics of the clasp, unscrewing several key sections so that the clasps would fall away from the Worm itself. He had already tried to pull them off the bomb casing but they were fused there by a strong magnetic force. He had to be extremely careful with his tool as well – too close to the case and it would be pulled from his hands and stuck to the magnets as well.

"Scott! Ten more seconds and you've gotta get out of there," John's voice was terse.

"No problem," Scott replied calmly as he unscrewed the last bolt and the Worm's clasp floated free of the case and the powerful magnets that were now irrevocably attached to it. "Done. Okay, let's get out of here!"

Alan immediately began pulling on the thick safety cord that was attached to the back of Scott's space suit. It was easy work in the low gravity and he gave his brother a swift if extremely bumpy ride back to the surface.

"Ow! Geez, Alan!" Scott complained as he bounced uncontrollably off the walls. "I _knew_ this was a bad idea! Now I know how a hooked fish feels..." He grumbled, to the background of a snicker from Alan. He was beginning to spin and in the practically zero gravity there was little he could do about it. "Careful!" He exclaimed as he ricocheted particularly hard off the wall.

"Sorry," Alan replied and slowed his over-enthusiastic pulling, but it was too late.

It was the most dreaded sound a space-walking astronaut could hear – a steady, relentless hiss.

"John," Scott's voice was eerily calm, "Check my readings, wouldya?"

John was already staring in horror at the computer. "Your pressurization valve is damaged, you're losing life support! Alan, get him out of there NOW!"

Alan was close to panicking. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to his brother because of him. He hauled on Scott's line with renewed vigour. He'd already managed to damage the space suit, there wasn't much worse that could go wrong from rough handling and it was more important to get Scott back to the surface.

"How long?" Scott asked, his voice steadier than that of either of his brothers.

"Thirty seconds till complete loss of atmosphere," John said. "Don't worry, you're gonna make it, just get to the airlock." John tried to sound reassuring but Scott could hear the tension in his voice.

Moments later, Alan hauled Scott from the hole and they began racing towards Thunderbird Three. Scott could not hear the hiss any more, nor the voices of his brothers – enough atmosphere had been lost from his suit that the sound waves had no air to be carried through. He knew he had about fifteen seconds before he lost consciousness from lack of oxygen – while on Earth he could hold his breath for more than two minutes, in space there was no way of doing so as the vacuum inflated his lungs, making it impossible to breathe at all.

They were just metres away from the airlock door when Scott's eyes rolled back and he collapsed without warning. Alan gasped and grabbed his brothers arms, dragging him the last few metres and into the space rocket. John quickly sealed off the doors from the bridge and overrode the pressurization system, flooding atmosphere into the chamber at a much greater rate than safety recommended, while Alan yanked his unconscious brother's helmet off and stared frantically at the readings on the wall panel, willing the flickering numbers to change faster as they indicated the atmospheric shift.

"C'mon, Scott," he muttered, grabbing his unresponsive brother's shoulders and shaking them.

"Alan, oxygen, now!" John ordered, terse with anxiety. There was no oxygen reaching Scott's brain and he knew that asphyxiation damage to the brain cells was scarily rapid.

"Right," Alan rushed to obey, grabbed the emergency oxygen pipe from the wall and turned back. The air pressure was now at the equivalent of 26,000 feet of altitude if they were on Earth – the limit at which humans could survive without breathing apparatus. John had managed to repressurize the chamber this far in just twenty seconds, instead of the usual ten minutes it took. In the seconds it took Alan to get back to his brother Scott had opened his eyes. Slightly disoriented for a moment, he stared at Alan as he breathed the pure oxygen flowing from the emergency mask.

"Are you okay?!" Alan took his own helmet off, revealing a face white as chalk. He couldn't believe he had nearly killed his own brother.

"You mean, apart from the fact that this is the second time in two days you've had to give me oxygen?" Scott responded, slightly muffled through the mask.

Above them on the bridge, John dropped his forehead to the desk, limp with relief. If Scott was able to make jokes, he was going to be fine.

"Thank God..." he muttered, a statement echoed by Alan.

"I thought I'd killed you!" the young astronaut admitted, helping Scott up. Scott rubbed his ears – the quick change in air pressure was like descending in an aeroplane, except much faster, and his eardrums were protesting.

"Not getting rid of me that easily, kiddo," he grinned, his voice gentle. Alan was obviously distressed, eyes huge in his pale face. "It was an accident Alan, and I'm fine. Don't worry about it," he reassured his little brother as they left the airlock and came into the lower levels of Thunderbird Three. Suddenly Scott came to an abrupt halt, dismay etched into his features.

"What?" Alan stared anxiously at his brother.

"Alan...you left the Worm out there, didn't you?"

If Alan could have looked any more distraught, he would have. He nodded, wondering what Scott's reaction was going to be. He figured he was about to be in the biggest trouble of his life.

"Unbelievable! All that effort for nothing!" Scott groaned, then began to laugh helplessly. After a few moments, Alan began to smile too.

"Want me to go - "

"Sorry Alan, no time to get it back," John's voice interrupted him over the speakers. "Lift off in two minutes and counting!" Quickly he initiated the lift off sequence. There was no_ way _he was letting either of them go back out there after that little mishap. What was one stupid piece of machinery compared to his brother's lives?

John's sudden interjection out of nowhere just made Scott laugh even harder and before long Alan had joined him out of sheer relief.

It wasn't long before they had shed their spacesuits and taken the lift up to the bridge. They were right on the edge of their deadline for lift-off, which had been set so that they would be clear of the blast zone by the time they had to detonate the bomb.

"Good to see you guys!" John's relief was evident.

"Same to you, now let's get the heck out of here!" Scott grinned, apparently the least affected of the three by his close shave. Alan grinned back, colour beginning to come back into his face. He couldn't wait to see that thing explode. They blasted off into space.

"So, I guess we better be prepared for the lecture," Scott said after a while as they soared away from the asteroid.

"That'll be the "lives are more important than equipment" one, right?" Alan put his head in his hands. He was really dreading this one. He was going to be in _so _much trouble.

After a while he looked up. "You know John, your shift was nearly up in Thunderbird 5 anyway...I don't mind replacing you a bit early, saves making an extra trip," he offered, visibly brightening at the idea. Both his brothers burst out laughing.

"What a generous offer!" John shook his head in amusement. "That's the first time I've ever heard you offer to come up early. You're usually days late!"

"I don't think so little bro, you're not getting out of it that easily, I need someone to blame for all this!" Scott teased good-naturedly. Alan sighed.

"Oh well, it was worth a try..."

* * *

It was only about an hour, but to Alan it seemed like forever before Scott finally gave the order to remote detonate the bomb. John pulled up the computer-generated image of the asteroid on the screen – highly zoomed in of course as they were now far too distant to be able to watch it at real size. Scott paused with the detonator in his hands before passing it over to Alan.

"Want to do the honours?" He grinned, knowing Alan was dying to blow the thing up. And after all it was his idea. They all watched the screen intently as Alan activated the detonator and bypassed the security systems Brains had found time to place. This was the most important part of the mission. If the bomb failed...none of them could bear thinking about the consequences.

"Well, here goes..." and Alan pressed the button. There was an infinitesimal pause, a sudden blinding flash, and the image on the screen instantly disintegrated into a massive sphere of dust and small chunks of debris. Everyone whooped and cheered, high-fiving all around.

"Fantastic!" "Awesome!" "Epic!"

"Excellent work, boys! I'm proud of you," Jeff's warm voice praised them from base as they celebrated.


	7. Chapter 7

_Last chapter. Thank you, everyone! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! ^_^_

_-Ashelyn-  
_

* * *

Alan stood between the open French doors. Everyone else was up on the rooftop observation point but he had been drawn by the moonlight glinting off the glassy black ocean. His eyes followed the rolling motion of the beach break. Comparatively small but beautifully formed, the waves were perfect for pulling some wicked stunts on a short board.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" a voice spoke in his ear. Alan jumped and glared at Gordon, he hadn't even heard him approach. Gordon laughed."C'mon, grab your board and let's go!" his surf-mad brother told him, already wetsuit-clad, his own shortboard tucked under his arm. Alan grinned and ran to comply. He loved night surfing. The air was chilly so he quickly pulled on a wetsuit and followed Gordon down to the beach.

The moon was bright and lanterns set among the palm trees marked out the shore for the two brothers. They had been surfing for about half an hour when they found themselves sitting astride their surfboards out the back of the break, waiting in a lull for another good set to show up.

"Look!" Alan exclaimed, pointing to the sky. They both gasped in awe as hundreds of bright streaks of light began to shoot through the night, flaring towards the horizon and vanishing. This was all that was left of the asteroid they had exploded not 24 hours ago, as the pebble and dust-sized fragments ignited in the Earth's atmosphere and vaporized.

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Gordon murmured. Alan nodded. He knew what his brother meant – that the source of these beautiful shooting stars would right now be wreaking destruction over half of the world, if it hadn't been for International Rescue.

The light of the shooting stars reflected in his blue eyes as he gazed skyward. Gordon looked sidelong at his younger brother and a slow, mischievous smirk crossed his face. The young astronaut was entranced by the beautiful sight above him...

"AAAAAAARGH!" Alan screamed as something grabbed his leg and yanked him off his board and under the water. With a strength born of panic he wrenched free of the grip and swam several frantic thrashing strokes, scrambling up onto his surfboard before the sound of laughter reached his ears. He turned and saw Gordon in the water, clutching the side of his board, unable to even climb on as tears of mirth poured down his face. Alan flopped back in the water with a gasp of limp relief before outrage caught up with him. Pulling himself onto his surfboard he advanced on his helpless brother.

"I'll get you for that..." he growled, adrenaline still flooding his system. Gordon gulped and managed to drag himself onto his board, paddling as swiftly as he could while still shaking with laughter. A swell caught up both of their boards and Gordon found himself being chased along the wave by his irate brother.

"Help!" he cried, and "Stand by to repel boarders!" He tried to execute a swift turn to escape, but suddenly Alan made a flying leap, landing on Gordon's surfboard and slamming his brother unceremoniously into the churning water.

"Ha haaa!" he shouted in delight as he managed to keep his balance and carve the commandeered surfboard back along the wave. "Take that, sucker!" Gordon popped up behind the wave just as the leash still attached to his ankle sprung taut, yanking on his leg and causing the surfboard to suddenly bounce to a stop. Of course, Alan kept going. With a yell the young man described a graceful curve through the air and fell with an enormous splash into the ocean, where the wave promptly fell onto his head. Gordon barely managed to keep afloat as he howled with gleeful laughter.

By the time they made it to shore both brothers were reduced to crawling onto the beach, exhausted by laughter. They flopped down on the sand, still giving one another feeble pushes that didn't serve any purpose whatsoever. The meteorite shower was nearly over.

"You know," Alan remarked after a while, "I'm sure it's not advised to go surfing while still having stitches in your skull!" Gordon grinned and felt the special waterproof pad he had persuaded Kyrano to cover his wound with.

"Why do you think I waited till it was night and Dad was otherwise occupied?" He replied. "He'll never find out...as long as you keep your mouth shut..." he rolled up onto one elbow and stared meaningly at his brother. Alan smirked.

"I won't tell...if you promise not to tell about the fishing trip!"

Gordon groaned. "There goes my blackmail material! Drat you, Alan!" he couldn't help laughing as his brother flicked sand onto his face. "Alright already! We're quits," he agreed, shaking his head.

It was the end of another successful day for International Rescue.

THE END...FOR NOW!


End file.
